Your Blogging Staff

Contributing to this blog:
- "Dave" is Dave Barry, who is a humor columnist and presidential contender.
- "judi" is Judi Smith, who is Dave's Research Department, as well as being interested in men.
- "Walter" is Walter, a bone from the penis of a walrus.

Little Davey sat on the curb outside his house, lost in thought. He felt himself drifting away, felt like he was falling, and he knew....it was Tensing. His mom and dad always called Tensing his 'invisible friend'...but Davey knew he was real, and lately Tensing was showing Davey things that scared him...........

Davey screamed in horror as his beloved formatting ceased to be visible.

Tensing grabbed Davey's hand. "We're not even on the bus yet. This is supposed to be the part of the book where the reader is all calm before the storm, ya know? Stop with the screaming until chapter 6!"

Davey was so scared...how could he tell his bandmates that it was too dangerous to go on the bus? They'd never understand about Tensing. If he tried to explain, he knew they'd point and laugh and call him names.....names like 'freak', and 'psycho' and 'booger'......

Just then Dave thought of a plan. A wonderful, wicked, wacky, well-crafted, whopper of a plan. Gathering his mates about him, he said...

"Say fellas, let's not go on the bus. I know, I know, it's all reserved and paid for and there's certainly no reason to believe that something terrible awaits us in the upper bunks, but the thing is, Ridley's scared. He's frightened like a little baby, and gosh darnitall I can't bring myself to force him to overcome his fears just because it inconveniences every single other person on this tour. So let's hop in a cab!"

Davey slept fitfully, dreaming of things he couldn't possibly face while awake. In his dream he heard a hollow booming sound...he didn't recognize it, and it frightened him. Suddenly he awaoke, and found himself staring into the bus window, which showed him the reflection of his own pasty, sleep-deprived face. Across his image, in the kind of drippy letters you saw in horror movies were the words Wedwum Season.

Dave awoke with a start, as opposed to waking with a stop as usual. He immediately sensed that something was amiss.

"Ridley's hand is on my bum." he sensed, cursing himself for leaving Amy's whip out of reach.

He peered into the rain-soaked night, wondering what the hell Wedwum Season meant, and if Elmer Fudd was involved.
He gently removed Ridley's hand from his bum, eliciting a grunt of satisfaction from his bandmate that, quite frankly, was disconcerting.

"I feel disconcerted," he thought. "My concert has been dis'd."

The bus smelled faintly of gym socks and Captain Morgan's; a smell all too familiar to a man coming off of a book tour.

When suddenly, without warning, something really shocking happened, which will be filled in by someone else.

C-bol - hey man, I would move that strategically placed Hershey's bar. When I said "grips" I didn't mean in a nice way. If you ever want to be able to use that thing again, I suggest that you put the chocolate bar someplace else. :)

*suddenly yet another really shocking thing happened without warning, which only partly explains why it was shocking: Ed McMahon leapt out of Dave's guitar case naked and began singing a lullaby in French*

The bus driver, apparently taken aback, rather than afront as is his native custom, veered over to the side of the road.

"I'll bet the driver turns out to be a zombie." Amy said out loud, completely ruining the plot of the story and forcing Fed to come up with something else on the fly.

"He's going to make an 'on the fly' joke and turn the driver into The Fly instead." said Ridley, who was really starting to piss the narrator off.

Dave gazed intently at the markings on the window. "Wedwum Season." he thought to himself. "Let's see. Wigwam. Bedlam. Muwdew. That's it! It must be Jason Mulgrew, internet quasi-celebrity!"

Amy struck a rather fetching pose in her stilleto heels and brandished her whip like a wild... um, thing that brandishes stuff.

"Dave, just freaking say it out loud, man." said the frustrated and underpaid narrator.

"Wedwum." Dave said aloud, wondering all the while why you can't say something aquiet if need be.
"I get it!" Dave screamed, in a not ungirlylike fashion. "Ledlum! It's a Japanese thing! They can't say the L sound! This is obviously tied to a Japanese mob boss named Ledlum."

Then suddenly, without warning, the bus driver said "to hell with this," and quit.

Then something else really creative and shocking happened, as evidenced by Ch. 3 "Dave Does Dallas."

As Dave is busy doing Dallas, a water line to the low flow toilet suddenly breaks and causes the bus to flood.

Panic stricken, everyone frantically climbs the rungs of the ladders and huddle in the top bunks together.

The water rises rapidly and since the driver quit, the bus is cruising around on autopilot and is unaware of the leakage.

Couragously Dave abandons all rationality and climbs back down into the rushing water, now up to his blue shirt. He was in search of the priceless pair of penguin thongs thrown to him by a bloglit named Slyeyes.

I wonder whether Dave owns the rights to postings on the blog. If he publishes this thread he can sell it to the American Psychiatric Association as a set of case studies. Or maybe as the new "Ulysses"?

When my grandson was about 5 years old, his father was doing "shift" work (not s--t work) and stayed home until noon baby-sitting with Matt. Every day Mike would watch the TV evanglists on the "boob tube." He watched Ernest Ainsley, the faith healer, lay hands on the chosen crippled persons that came down to the front escorted by the ushers. Ernest would slap them on the forward, they would fall back into the waiting hands of the ushers, and he would say, "HEAL!!! In the name of JESUS!" One day, Mike took his family out to dinner. The waiter had placed Matt on a booster seat. A veteran from the Viet Nam War came in with a lovely woman. The waiter removed a chair from one of the tables in order to clear a place for his wheel chair. Matt kept glancing over at the vet. His mother said, "don't you even "think" about it!" But Matt just kept on stealing side glances when he thought that his mother wasn't looking. Finally, he could stand it no longer. He jumped down from his booster chair, ran across the restaurant, slapped the veteran on the one of his two stubs (both legs had been lost in the war) and said, "HEAL! Take all you need!" Needless to say, Mary ran over to the table, crying, and apologizing profoundly. But by the time she got over there, the good natured vet had Matt sitting upon his lap and he was laughing his head off. He said, "Lady, don't ever stop this kid! He is the funniest thing that I have ever seen in my life! He has made my day. Most people won't look my in the face after I returned back to the states. I love it!!!"

Kat alias tak that is spooky. I have a nephew who did almost the exact same thing.

Only instead of a watching faith healers he was always watching WWF wrestling and instead of a restaurant it was a bus station and instead of a vietnam vet it was an unemployed snake charmer / ballerina and instead of smacking stumps he severed her thumbs with a salad fork.

Oh, Susannah, don't you pine for me
I ain't from Alabama
And I've got this breast on the back o' my knee
---

Angie - "frustration based violence" has a better chance of being covered under the warranty than "spite based violence", according to a survey I found in my ass and backed up by an episode of Seinfeld I once saw.

"Luv------, is a many splendored thing!
It's the end of all, and everything that goo will bring! I't the morning due and super flu and just between me,--- and you!!! Oh! Luv is, -----Luv is really a pot of GLUE!"

Hey Dave, sorry I'll miss ya at the House of Blues tomorrow, so here's a solo for you.

---

Humor Blogger Blues

Well I'm a humor blogger baby
I'm gonna post a laugh for you
Yes I'm a humor blogger baby
About to post a laugh for you
If real life starts to take its toll
I'll be here, on a roll
And I ain't never lost to the blues

Well I'm a metaphor mixer
A morning child in the evening of life
Yeah I'm a bad joke fixer, baby
Take two boogers, and take my wife!
Well I'm a topical observer, baby
With wit sharper than a knife

Who's got the blues for Ridley and me?

Well I'm a humor bomb
Guaranteed to crack you up
Lord knows I'm humor bomb for you baby
Woh gauranteed, just stone gauranteed to crack you up
And if I can't make you laugh for me baby
Sweet child you are one sick pup

I'm trying to check mail, take out garbage and repair plumbing....but I've got to round up more virgins for a sacrifice to the baseball gods. Apparently, the one I sacrificed earlier today lied about his status.